


If the Sky Comes Falling Down

by onetruealpha



Series: All the King's Horses [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Events to Echo House, Hurt Stiles, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, PTSD, Post Nogitsune, Protective Scott McCall, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scott is a Good Friend, Supportive Scott, otherwise canon compliant, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onetruealpha/pseuds/onetruealpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After learning about what happened to his best friend at Eichen House, Scott goes to offer his support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Sky Comes Falling Down

It’s a chillier evening than usual as Scott makes his way slowly toward the Stilinski household later that night. He’s waited as long as he can stand it, giving Stiles and his dad time to talk and try to process even as Scott had paced the living room floor for hours, unable to sit still or think straight and he wondered while he was doing it if this was how Stiles felt on a regular basis. He’s always kind of wondered what it feels like to be in Stiles’ mind and he finds himself understanding now why his best friend needs Adderall. 

His mother had tried to get him to stop more than once, and even got him to sit on the sofa with her for awhile before he got up again and returned to pacing. He’s glad that Stiles told someone what happened, he’s glad that he knows, he’s glad that it’s going to be dealt with because it’s all Scott can do to keep himself from hopping on his bike and driving to Eichen House and ripping Brunski to pieces. He’s never felt a strong urge to kill the way he feels it now. It scares him. 

But he manages to push away his own emotions -- his anger, his distress -- as he walks to the place that has been his second home for as long as he can even remember. He’s not driving because it’s not that far, just a few blocks, and Scott figures maybe the night air will help him to try and clear his head. He needs to have a clear head so that when he talks to Stiles, he can be there for him the way Stiles has always been there for Scott when Scott’s needed him. 

God he wishes he’d been wrong in his suspicions about what happened at Eichen House. He wishes there was some way to reverse time, to go back and somehow convince Stiles not to lock himself away in the asylum. Wishes he’d stayed outside just in case Stiles needed him. God he wishes he’d stayed. He would have heard what was happening. He could have stopped it. Why hadn’t he stayed? 

He slows even more as he makes his way onto the street where the Stilinski’s live, forcing himself to take a couple of deep breaths before shifting the container of food he’s carrying to his left hand and reaching into his jeans pocket with his right one. He retrieves the key that Stiles had left behind at the McCall house, feeling a surge of anger at his father again. Whatever he’d said to Stiles to get him to give up the key had to be pretty bad. He hates him for that. Hates that his dad doesn’t care about hurting the people that Scott loves. 

Scott finds Stiles sitting on the porch steps, arms resting on his knees as he sits in silence, shivering a little in the darkness. He looks so frail, so _lost_ and he has to remind himself that even though he’s no longer possessed by the nogitsune, Stiles is far from being himself still. It pains him to think that the Stiles he’s known his entire life may be gone forever. He can smell the anxiety, the guilt that Stiles is feeling and he hates that too. God. Like he has _anything_ to feel guilty about at all. 

He _has_ to get through to him somehow. He can’t lose Stiles. None of them can. 

“Hey,” Scott greets quietly when he’s close enough for Stiles to see him.   
Stiles looks up instantly, tensing for the briefest of moments before relaxing once more as he realizes it’s just Scott approaching. “Hey.” 

Scott moves over and sits down on the steps beside him. “Mom sent over chicken and noodles,” he says, holding the container out to him. 

A smile flickers over his mouth before it vanishes as he reaches out and takes the food from him. “Guess she wasn’t kidding.” 

“About what?” he asks curiously. 

Stiles looks down for a moment. “That she was going to make me start eating more.” 

Scott pauses at that, then nods. “Yeah, she really wasn’t kidding. And she’s right,” he says quietly, glancing at his best friend sideways. 

“I just haven’t been hungry.” 

“I know,” Scott tells him, nodding. “I know you haven’t been. But you’ve lost too much, Stiles.” He’s glad that Stiles doesn’t try to argue otherwise. After a long moment, he opens his right hand and reveals the key he’s been holding onto. “I think you forgot this at my house.” 

Stiles looks at the key, then shakes his head slightly, looking away again. “I think you should keep it.” His voice is quiet. The way it always is these days. Like he’s afraid if he talks too loud, it’ll cause something bad to happen. 

“It isn’t mine,” Scott tells him gently. “It belongs to you.” 

Stiles inhales deeply and then exhales, shivering. “Scott, I don’t think that...it’s safe for me having an all-access pass to your house at this point.” 

His stomach tightens at that and he reaches out, laying his hand against his best friend’s back, glad when Stiles doesn’t flinch or try to pull away. “Look,” he whispers. “I don’t know what my dad said to you, but whatever it was...it doesn’t _matter_ , man. Okay? He’s a dick. I don’t want anything to do with him, my mom doesn’t want anything to do with him, and he had no right to tell you to give up your key.” 

Scott notes the way that Stiles’ jaw tightens, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, hears his heart beating a little faster and he rubs his back gently in an attempt to soothe him. “It isn’t…he was right. I ruin everything that I touch, Scott. Look at everything that’s happened,” he whispers. 

“ _No,_ ” he insists. “None of that is your fault. None of it.” Not what the nogitsune did, and not what happened to him at Eichen House. “No one thinks that it is, except for you.” 

Stiles shuts his eyes and Scott can tell that he’s struggling not to cry. “If I hadn’t dragged you into the woods that night --” 

Scott scoffs. “Dude, you didn’t. I wouldn’t have gone with you if I hadn’t wanted to, Stiles. You have to stop this. You have to stop blaming yourself every time something goes wrong. You don’t have that kind of control over things, okay? Shit happens. It just does. It isn’t your fault, it isn’t my fault, it isn’t anyone’s _fault_. It just happens.” 

He draws in a shuddering breath and Scott shifts closer to him, holding the key out again. “Scott--” 

“Take it, man. It’s _yours_. We want you to have it. You don’t need permission to be at the house. You’re family. You’ve _always_ been family. Nothing is ever gonna change that,” Scott tells him firmly. 

“Nothing?” he echoes, not looking at Scott. He so rarely looks at anyone directly anymore. 

“ _Nothing,”_ Scott reiterates, reaching out and taking Stiles’ hand in his and placing the key in his palm before closing Stiles’ fingers around it. 

Stiles swipes at his eyes with his shirt sleeve and nods, slipping the key into his pocket and Scott can tell that he’s struggling to say something else. He smells his best friend’s anxiety beginning to grow even as his heart beat begins to speed up. “Scott, there’s something…” He bites down hard on his lower lip and Scott feels his eyes beginning to tear up at the shakiness in Stiles’ voice. 

Scott’s never been a big crier, but somehow anytime Stiles is upset like this, he _feels_ it, too, like it’s his own. “I know,” he whispers, reaching out and pulling Stiles into a hug. 

Stiles shudders against him, winding his arms around Scott’s torso and burrowing his face against his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to know,” he admits, voice breaking. 

It hurts to hear that, but Scott understands. Or at least he thinks he does. He hugs him tightly, the way they always hug when things are terrible and one or both of them needs the comfort. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” 

He holds him for a long time until he’s not shivering anymore, until both of their tears have dissipated for the time being. 

Stiles finally pulls away, but leans into him, their shoulders touching. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again, closing his eyes. “I couldn’t stop it,” he admits bitterly, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Scott’s chest tightens and he tries to tamp down on the surge of anger he feels. He shouldn’t have _had_ to try and stop it. It should never have happened in the first place. “It isn’t your fault.” 

Stiles swallows heavily once more and rubs the back of his neck. “He had kanima venom.” 

All the air leaves Scott’s lungs because that alone paints such a vivid picture in his mind that he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight. The bastard had _paralyzed_ Stiles so he literally had no ability to fight back. His hands curl into fists, jaw tightening and he has to take a deep breath as the urge to hunt Brunski down and take him apart a little at a time becomes even more appealing. “I’m so sorry, Stiles,” he whispers. 

Stiles looks at him, face paler than before, eyes red-rimmed. “He knows about you, Scott. You and Lydia both. He knows that you’re a werewolf and that Lydia’s a banshee,” he admits. “I don’t know how he knows, but he does.” 

Scott shakes his head. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” 

“What if it does? What if he comes after you guys because I told your mom?” His expression is guiltier now than before and Scott realizes that’s how Brunski kept him quiet all this time. 

“Stiles, we’ll be okay. We’ll keep Lydia safe, and I’ll be all right.” Stiles is the one he’s worried about.

He looks away, nodding slightly and looking down at his hands. “I have to tell her, don’t I?” 

Scott wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, a gesture that’s been so familiar and comforting to him over the years that he hopes it’s the same for Stiles now. He’s relieved when Stiles leans against him, closing his eyes. “She knows something happened. She just doesn’t know what,” he says quietly. He hesitates a moment. “Do you want me to tell her?” he whispers. 

“No,” Stiles murmurs. “No, it should come from me.” He exhales, shivering again. 

“Okay. Why don’t we go inside? You’re freezing, man.” He knows that Stiles has ever fully gained control over his own body’s heat since he was unpossessed, and he knows that staying outside in the cold air is only making that worse and not better. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Stiles leans into him a little more and Scott helps him to his feet, keeping his arm around him as he guides him into the house. 

He can hear Sheriff Stilinski in his office, talking quietly on the phone, but his voice is angry. He winces slightly as he overhears the words _head on a platter_ and _I mean yesterday_ and he’s glad that Stiles can’t hear the things he can hear with his werewolf abilities. 

“Want me to heat those up for you?” Scott offers, nodding toward the container Stiles is carrying. 

He looks at him skeptically. “I think I can handle heating up some food, Scott,” he says wryly. 

Scott grins sheepishly and shrugs. “Yeah, well.” 

Stiles shakes his head and moves to the microwave and slides the container inside, pushing some buttons while Scott grabs some silverware from the drawer and a glass from the cabinet. He’s as familiar with everything in the Stilinski kitchen as he is in his own because there’s never been a line drawn for either of them between _guest_ and _make yourself at home_. 

Scott’s always felt at home wherever his mom or Stiles are, and he hopes that Stiles feels the same way. “Water or milk?” 

“Milk,” Stiles answers and Scott nods and moves over to the fridge, pulling it open and pouring a glass before moving back to the table and setting down the glass and the fork and knife. 

“Interested in Halo or Mario Kart or something after you eat?” Scott asks. 

“Yeah, definitely.” Stiles doesn’t hesitate before answering. 

“Cool.” Scott drops down at the table and waits for Stiles to join him. 

“Hey, Scottie?” His voice is quiet. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks,” he whispers. “For not...I don’t know, for not treating me any different.” 

Scott’s chest tightens again and he holds his breath for a few seconds. “No matter what’s happened or what happens in the future...you’re always going to be Stiles for me. My best friend.” 

Stiles turns to look at him and nods a little. “You too,” he agrees. “I mean, you’re always going to be Scott. Not Stiles. It’d be weird if we were both Stiles.” He makes a face. 

He laughs lightly at that. “Yeah it’d be hard to be Scott and Stiles if we’re both Stiles.” He grins when Stiles actually smiles, an actual smile that he hasn’t seen in awhile. 

Scott hopes it’s just the first of many.


End file.
